


Sorry For Your Loss

by redgoth



Series: 100 Ways To Say "I love you" [18]
Category: South Park
Genre: Animal Death, Crying, Diners, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, agender firkle is mentioned, also a bit of family fluff with pete and his mom bc i lvoe pete and his mom, i love petes mom liSTEN
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 05:25:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6410590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redgoth/pseuds/redgoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sparky is gone, and Stan hasn't been in school. In turn, the goth tries to cheer him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Found

**Author's Note:**

> 18\. "I'm sorry for your loss."
> 
> 'ur the last person i'd expect to kill an animal??' yeah well listen if it means stan cries,

Things had been quiet lately. Around school, at least. Stan hadn’t been in school for the past three days. His absence invited a bit less dicking off in his friend group, which was easily welcomed by a vast majority of the students.

But Pete was starting to smell something fishy.

Stan rarely missed school unless it was something bad. The kid hardly ever got sick, and while he did ditch quite a lot, he always appeared for at least a bit of the day. Unless it was a bad day. Or week.

As Pete waited the last few minutes of his last period, he made a plan in his head.

A plan that mostly involved walking around town and skipping out on his plans with Michael. Ugh. Whatever. The cemetery will still be there tomorrow. The man can wait a fuckin’ day.

He shoved his book into his book bag as the final bell of the day rang, picking it up and swinging it over his shoulder as he started making his way out the door. Kids swarmed the hallways like insects as they made their way out, some laughing and running and dicking around with their friends, some just trying to make their way to the damn buses. Pete slipped off, out towards the front of the school, then off in the direction of Stan’s house.

The Marsh household wasn’t far from the school at all. It was closer than Pete’s place, and easier to walk to. Lucky bastard.

As Pete approached the dark green house, he readjusted his grip on his book bag. He walked up the little walkway and stepped up the two short steps, hesitating for a moment before knocking on the door. It took a moment for anyone to come to the door, but when the door swung open, Sharon Marsh stood in the doorway, looking tired but a bit surprised.

“Oh, Peter…” She opened the door a bit wider, then paused, looking conflicted.

“Just Pete, ma’am.” He interrupted. He didn’t come by often, not really, mostly when they were in middle school. Now he only stopped by once in awhile. “Is Stan here?”

Sharon took a deep breath before shaking her head. “Pete…” She gave him a tired smile. “I’m afraid not. He’s been out wandering around since-” She cut herself off, looking off. “Since Tuesday. He’s probably at Stark’s Pond if you want to find him.”

That was. Odd. “What happened on Tuesday?” Pete raised an eyebrow at the woman, eyeing her cautiously.

She let out another deep sigh and pushed her bangs out of her face. “You remember Sparky, right? Our dog?”

Oh jeez. “Of course.”

“He past away the other day.” She looked away from Pete, shaking her head. “It wasn’t any kind of sickness,  _ thankfully _ , just… old age. He turned twelve this year…” She sighed. “Stanley’s taken it kind of… hard.”

“I’d imagine…” Pete frowned, his grip on the strap of his book bag tightening.

“He loved that dog…” She leaned against the doorway, closing her eyes for a moment, then opening them to all but stare into Pete’s soul. “Could you make sure he’s alright? He’s been leaving the house early and coming home late, it’s… it makes a mother worry. Kyle said he was at Stark’s Pond…”

So Kyle had tried to talk to him. Cute. Like Kyle was good with managing Stan when he was in his depressive states.  _ Right _ .

“I’ll try and find him, ma’am.” Pete took a step back, onto the first little step. “I’m sorry about Sparky.”

“Thank you, Pete.” She smiled, almost genuinely. “There’s nothing anyone could have done…”

Pete dug his nails into his palm, but nodded his head as he continued to back up, before turning around and leaving the yard. He heard Mrs. Marsh sigh once again, before closing the door.

If it weren’t for the heels on his boots, and his shit lungs, Pete would have considered  _ running  _ to Stark’s Pond. Honestly. The things this kid would consider doing for love.  _ Disgusting. _ Firkle would’ve had a field day with that one if they knew about it.

The walk to Stark’s Pond involves basically walking across the whole town. Or at least, that’s what it feels like. By the time he reaches the little trail to get to the park, Pete can feel sweat on his skin, and his black sweater feels entirely too hot. God, it was March. Who allowed the sun to come out in  _ March _ . Fuck the sun. Fuck sweating.

The trail to Stark’s Pond was a bit more dirt and nature than Pete would’ve preferred, but he walked through the brush until the pond became a stone’s throw away.

It wasn’t too busy. A few kids were playing with their friends on some of the fallen trees that littered one side. There was a couple on a walk. In the distance, Pete could make out a familiar figure. Half way across the pond. Of course. Great.  _ Okay. _

Honestly. It was March. Heat should be reserved for July only. _Fuck the sun_.

Yet, despite the heat, the trail was muddy and slick. Because  _why not._

Pete pushed his hair out of his face, huffing as he almost slipped on the pathway. The shore around the pond went from gravel to mushy and mucky within a matter steps. The heels of Pete’s boots stuck to the disgusting muck of the mud within seconds, causing the boy to grimace as he shook his heels out of the gunk. He stomped his way out the mud, towards Stan.

He slowed down a bit the closer he got, taking in the sight of his friend. The boy was lying down on one of the benches, arm under his head as he stared off at the lake. He barely moved when Pete finally approached him.

Pete hesitated for a moment before clearing his throat. “Stanley.”

The boy on the bench let out a little snicker, continuing to stare off into the pond. “Peter.”

“Why is everyone calling me that today?” Pete rolled his eyes and folded his arms. “Move over, I’m gunna sit.”

Stan let out a loud groan but sat up anyways, letting his feet hit the ground with a thud. Pete sat down beside him, pressing out the fabric of his shirt. A silence fell before Pete ran his hand through his hair, shaking his head.

“I heard about what happened with Sparky.” He mumbled, staring out at the little island in the middle of the pond. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Stan shook his head, looking away from the pond, away from Pete. “He was old. It’s better he died now in his sleep than from some stupid disease…” He mumbled, huffing out a breath of air.

“Still,” Pete frowned, throwing him a glance. “Losing animals fucking sucks. It’s like losing your  _ best friend _ .”

“I don’t want to hear it right now.” Stan’s voice was stern, throwing Pete off guard. Most of the time during bad days, Stan would try to make himself smaller. Today was different. “I know you’re… probably trying to help, or something, but I don’t want to hear it, Pete. My dog is dead.”

Pete paused, shifting a little to stare solely ahead. “Okay.”

They sat there for a few long minutes, Pete staring at the pond while Stan glared down at his lap. After a few moments, Stan let his head rest in his hands, sniffling a little. Pete stared ahead.

Within seconds, tears began to slip down the dark haired boy’s face, puddling on his jacket sleeves as he started to sob. Pete took a deep breath, carefully wrapping his arm around Stan’s shoulder, pulling him close and leaning against him.

Neither spoke, the only sound between them being wrecked sobs and little breaths.

“I miss my dog.” Stan hiccuped as he rubbed at his eyes.

“I know.” Pete whispered back, closing his eyes. Stan leaned against Pete as well, nudging his head against Pete’s shoulder. “Losing pets is awful.”

“He was my first dog, dude. _Damn_.” More tears fell as he tried to take a deep breath in an attempt to steady himself, but it broke off into another little sob.

Pete rubbed his hand up and down Stan’s arm slowly, squeezing his bicep. “Did your family have any pets before you came along?” It was an attempt to take his mind off it, Pete supposed. Anything to stop the tears.

Stan hesitated, looking out at the pond. “My mom and dad… and my sister had a German Shepherd.” He mumbled. “Her name was…” Stan squinted, tilting his head against Pete’s shoulder. “Annie, I think.”

“Those are nice dogs.” Pete smiled a little. “Michael has a black lab mix named Annie.”

It was Stan’s turn to smile, albeit a little wrecked. “I’ve met her. He’d come to the dog park with her sometimes. I was k-kinda surprised to see him with such an energetic dog.”

“She’s turning seven this year but she still acts like a puppy.” Pete snickered, shaking his head. “She jumps on Firkle and knocks them over.”

“How, she’s not even that big!” Stan smiled.

“Firkle’s not that big either. They’re like, twenty pounds when soaking wet.”

“You and Firkle are so small.” He shook his head, a lopsided grin hanging on his face. “Michael got the tall and Henrietta got the…” He cut himself off, tensing a little, causing Pete to go off in a minor fit of laughter. “Big…” He mumbled, embarrassedly. 

“Yeah, I know. She doesn’t care about the weight stuff, y’know? You weren’t being mean about it.”

Stan flushed a little, shrugging his shoulders. “Feels weird making fun of people’s weight.” Pete raised an eyebrow and gave him a doubtful look. Stan snickered. “I mean people who aren’t Cartman!”

“Riiight.” Pete shook his head but smiled a little, sighing softly. There was a minor pause of snickers and giggles. Pete stilled for a moment, before suddenly he let go of Stan and pushed himself up off the bench, putting his hands on his hips. “Let’s get some food, okay? I know a place where we can get cheap food that’s good.”

It was Stan’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “I hate the Village Inn.”

“We’re not going to the Village Inn.” Pete stated, turning on his heel. “There’s a diner I know.” When Stan didn't stand, Pete huffed and stuck his hand out. “C’mon. Let's go.”

Stan hesitated, eyeing him warily before sighing and grabbing Pete’s hand, allowing him to try and help pull him up.

Pete allowed a grin to grace his face for a brief moment as he and Stan left the pond.

After a few moments, Stan broke the silence between them. “Actually,” Stan started as they got onto the sidewalk. “You have like, two dollars, how the hell can you afford something from a diner, dude?”

“I have connections.” Pete shrugged, looking away.

The gears seemed to turn in Stan’s head. He raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Your ‘connections’ is your mom, isn't it.” He deadpanned.

“No!” Pete scowled but it faded quickly as he folded his arms. “Maybe… Yeah.”

“Oh my god, dude.” Stan grinned. “Seriously, you're the only goth kid I know who likes their mom.You’re the only  _ teenager  _ I know who likes their mom.”

“Shut up.” Pete scoffed.

“Henrietta hates her mom. I've heard Firkle complain about their mom. Michael isn't a fan of his birth mom or his stepmom. You willingly talk to your mom. She's like, your favorite adult.”

“To be fair, Michael kind of likes his birth mother.” Pete cut in. Stan frowned. “I mean, kind of… I think he just misses her…”

There was a pause. Pete shook his head. “My mom’s not my favorite adult.” He muttered.

“She totally is.” Stan snickered. “You don't even groan like  _ most teenagers _ do when they get a call from their mother.”

“She's nice!” Pete pushed his hair from his face, exasperated. “She doesn't deserve a shit kid!”

“You're such a good kid, oh my god.”

“I'm awful! Just, not to my mom!” Pete stuck his hands in his pockets as they turned down a little street. Stan was  _ giggling _ . The asshole.

“You went out to the pond to find me because I hadn’t been in school for awhile.You’re not too awful.” He smiled, gently nudging Pete with his elbow.

“It was an understandable concern given your-” Pete grunted, moving his hands around for emphasis. “You and your shitty mental health.”

“Yours is worse than mine is!”

“Unbelievable.” Pete laced his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. Stan snickered. Pete stopped walking just as they arrived in front of the diner.


	2. Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Farmhouse Diner was actually a pretty decent place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly pete's like the only minor character without a lot of backstory that i took and just 'ur gunna have a good home. ur parent loves u' i don't do that very often. 
> 
> pete deserves love

Before them was a little building, looking more like a very large, fancy trailer than an actual diner. The building itself was a bright red, window frames painted a clean white color. In the windows, flowers decorated the sills and a few people were visible behind the panes of glass. “Farmhouse Diner” was written in elegant cursive above the entryway.

Stan paused a little on the sidewalk, and Pete glanced back at him

“Your mom works here?” He said, raising an eyebrow.

“She does.” Pete stuffed his hands into jacket, biting down on the inside of his cheek. “My parents were cow people. Ma didn't like ranching but she liked the atmosphere. Got a job here when I was six and never quit.”

Pete sharing details about his past was a bit of a rarity. Stan grinned, shrugging his shoulders before following Pete up the three steps and allowed the smaller boy to push open the door.

A little bell sounded as Pete opened the door. The air inside was warm and sweet, hitting both boys full force as they entered. There was a long counter with bar stools pulled up to it. Two men sat at one end, piling food into their mouths as they talked to a lady with almost white blonde hair, standing behind the bar. She glanced over at them, a polite smile finding its way to her face.

“Be with you in a minute, Pete!” She called, directing her attention back to the men in front of her.

“Okay, Barbie.” Pete nodded back before looking to Stan. “That's Barbra. She owns this place.”

“Wow.” Stan smiled a little. “Nickname basis.”

“Shut up.” Pete scoffed, rolling his eyes. Instead of focusing on Stan, he turned to scout out a booth. Only a few tables littered the floor, booths were the main place to sit. “C’mon, my booth’s open.”

“ _‘My booth…’_ ” Stan chuckled back, but followed the shorter boy as he led them towards the back of the restaurant.

Pete slid into the last booth before the entrance to the kitchen, and Stan followed suit, settling down opposite him. There was a picture of a boy holding up a baby goat hanging on the wall, and a few purple flowers in a crystal vase.

Within minutes, a different woman appeared before them, smiling brightly. She had on a red and white dress, same colors as the outside, and a frilly white apron. Her soft brown hair was pulled up into a bun, and she had a pen tucked behind her ear.

“Didn't expect to see you here, kiddo.” She looked at Pete, utterly delighted. She glanced at Stan and almost did a double take. “And with a friend! Friends, right?” She asked, looking between the two.

“Friend.” Pete confirmed. “Ma, this is Stan. We go to school together.”

“Uh…” Stan turned towards her as much as he could in the booth. She stuck her hand out, and he did the same, shaking her hand carefully. “Stan, uh, Marsh.” He mumbled awkwardly.

“Abigail! But you can call me Abby. It's very nice to meet you, Stan!” She grinned at him brightly, and he couldn't help but smile back. “So,” she patted her apron, “what can I get for you boys?”

Pete hesitated for a moment, then jammed his hand into his bag, fishing around before pulling out a few crumpled bills. “Whatever you can get for… Seven dollars.” His eyes lit up and suddenly he pushed his hand into his pocket, coming back with some coins. “Seven dollars and 48 cents.” He corrected.

Abby laughed softly, shaking her head. “Seven fifty… Well, is that for both of you?” Pete nodded before Stan could even comment. “Alright, Pete, I can get you fries and coffee, of course.” Pete rolled his eyes. “And Stan, how does a burger and some fries sound?”

Stan visibly shrank a little, and he shot a glance to Pete. “I’m um, I-I’m vegetarian, actually…”

Abby’s eyes widened momentarily, eyebrows raised, before she regained herself, letting out a little laugh. “I'm so sorry, I guess I shouldn't assume things. How does broccoli cheddar soup sound?”

Stan smiled slightly back, rubbing at his neck. “Wonderful, m-ma'am.”

“Alrighty, boys, I'll be back with your order soon.” With that, she disappeared back into the kitchen.

Stan turned back to Pete, who had pulled his phone out to check the time. “Your mom’s really nice.” Stan deadpanned.

“I know she is.” Pete shoved his phone back into his pocket. “Normally that order costs like, twenty dollars.”

“How are you her child. You barely smile at all and it seems like she could never stop smiling. Actually I guess you've been smiling a lot today, dude.”

Pete shrugged his shoulders, looking out at the diner and choosing to ignore part of that statement. “She's a happy lady.”

“Christ.” He murmured.

A silence fell between them, and Stan slumped against the wall as Pete pulled out his phone again.

As time went on, Stan allowed himself to retrieve his own phone, sliding it unlocked. He let out a little sigh as he looked at the background of his phone. It was a picture taken last year, during a family trip. They had been visiting some of his mother’s family, back west. They had been at the beach that day. In the picture, Stan had Sparky lifted up to his chest, the dog was licking his face as he smiled at the camera. He let out a little sigh as he looked at it, locking his phone and putting it down on the table. Pete seemed to notice.

“You okay?” He whispered. Stan shrugged his shoulders, looking anywhere but Pete. The goth frowned, but didn’t comment.

Within the next ten minutes of silence, Abby returned with their food. She placed the soup down in front of Stan, a cup of coffee and a small thing of fries before Pete.

“Enjoy, boys.” She smiled, then turned her attention to Pete. “When you get home, can you start on dinner? I’m-”

“Closing today, I know, Ma.” Pete nodded his head. “Just like every Thursday.”

Abby paused for a moment, resting her hand on her hip. She let out a little sigh through her nose, smiling gently. “Okay.” She whispered. “I’ll be home after eight.” She looked at Stan then, carefully noting how his demeanor seemed slower than it had only minutes ago. “I hope he doesn’t drive you too mad, Stan.” She smiled softly. “Petey can be a handful but he’s a good kid, don’t you think?”

Stan gave a small smile back, nodding his head. “He is a good kid.”

Pete groaned, grabbing a fry and shoving it in his mouth. “Shut up, both of you. I’m _dark as a winter’s night_ , or some poetic bull like that.”

Both Stan and Abby let out a little laugh at that, Abby shaking her head while Stan covered his mouth with his hand.

She left them after that, and the two began to dig into their meals.

As Stan downed the soup, he fell back into his quiet state. Pete watched him carefully as he popped a fry into his mouth. When the taller boy sighed, Pete tossed a fry over to his napkin.

“It’ll be okay.” He whispered.

Stan huffed a short laugh, nodding slowly. “Okay.”

“Are you planning on getting another dog sometime?”

A brief pause.

“I think so.” Stan whispered. “I like having dogs. I wanna adopt one.”

Pete grinned at that. “Adopted pets are the best.”

“Both of yours are adopted, right? Your dog and cat?”

“They were. Pharaoh was at the shelter in the town over, Mythic came from the shelter here.” Pete popped a fry into his mouth. Pharaoh was some sort of pit bull mix. He had tan fur a bit of a bulky build. Mythic was just an old dark grey cat. They were Pete’s favorite things in the world.

“I wanna adopt.” Stan nodded. Pete chuckled.

“Maybe I’ll come with you.”

“You should.”

The two smiled, and Abby watched them from her place at the counter, giggling to herself.


End file.
